The Magic of the Night
by knittycat99
Summary: reaction fic to 4.13, "I Do". Kurt isn't the same person he was the last time he came back to Lima. Blaine isn't the same person he was over Christmas. The different ways people can grow.


Kurt hoped he was going to shed New York somewhere over Pennsylvania, honestly, but when he lands in Columbus he can still feel the city on him and in him as he bustles through the airport, Rachel and Santana hot on his heels.

"Where's the fire, Hummel?" Santana teases as they stand at baggage claim, but he has no answer. He doesn't _know_ where he thinks he's going, other than the place that should be home but isn't even close anymore.

"Nowhere," he mumbles, and grabs his suitcase off the carousel. He just wants something to feel familiar instead of itchy.

* * *

Rachel and Santana sleep the whole way back to Lima, curled into a silent truce on opposite sides of the Nav's backseat while Kurt listens to his dad singing badly along with the classic rock station.

"How's that goin'?" his dad asks, tipping his head toward the girls.

"It's crowded," Kurt says, "but we're all paying less for rent now, so that's good." He doesn't tell his dad about the number of nights he spends at Adam's, because there's not a lot to tell. He sleeps on the futon, and they go Dutch on coffee and chocolate croissants at the little French bakery on the corner of Adam's block. The nights he goes back to Bushwick, Adam walks him to the subway and they kiss at the top of the stairs until Kurt feels disheveled and weightless and has plenty of things to keep his mind busy on the long train ride.

Adam isn't Blaine, _of course_ he isn't Blaine, but he's part of Kurt's new self, and Kurt _likes_ who he is now.

"You look happy," his dad says into the silence. "More than you did at Christmas."

"Things are good," Kurt replies. "I am happy," he says, and for the first time in a long time he knows it's not a half-truth.

* * *

He meets Blaine at the Lima Bean because it's convenient and familiar, even if it holds all of their history in coffee and milk and cardboard cups.

They talk about NYADA and Blaine's college applications. Blaine mentions Sam in passing a handful of times, and Tina a handful more than that, and Kurt is careful not to mention Adam too often. He sits taller when he tells Blaine about Midnight Madness, and about calling out Rachel's catty queens the next day. Blaine smiles at him, pride and pleasure right there on his face.

"You're growing," Blaine says.

Kurt looks again at Blaine's relaxed body and hears easy affection in his voice. He's the Blaine Kurt fell in love with, two years before, not the tightly coiled mess of the last nine months. "You are, too," he replies, and stretches his hand across the table, raises one tentative finger and slides it from the inside of Blaine's wrist over his palm. "I'm really happy, that you're doing better. Really happy."

Blaine sighs and sinks further into his chair, like Kurt's approval was the last thing he was waiting for. He blinks, and Kurt wonders if he really did see tears in Blaine's eyes or whether it was a trick of the lighting. When Blaine opens them, his eyes are clear, though, and his voice is determined.

"We should sing a duet at the wedding, for old times' sake."

* * *

They go back to Blaine's house, because there's nobody there to get upset when they flip back and forth between their iTunes libraries, blasting song after song and discarding one after the other until Kurt finally dips into the playlist he made of songs the Apples should consider for their next competition. When "Just Can't Get Enough" comes up, Blaine starts bouncing around.

"I take that as a dance of approval, then?"

Blaine nods in time with the bass line, swings his hips. Kurt marvels at Blaine's renewed self-confidence. He wonders if Blaine can see the ways Kurt has changed, the things he can feel in his body and his mind that he doesn't quite yet have the words for but knows are happening to him nonetheless.

Blaine holds his hand out, and Kurt takes it. Blaine tugs, spins him, pulls him close. Kurt goes willingly, and even though it should feel familiar, sliding into the planes of Blaine's body that way, it doesn't. It's just as new and different as being with Adam, and Kurt thinks that maybe he's supposed to be sad about that, but he isn't. He can feel a new trimness in Blaine's waist, new muscles in his arms. "You've been working out more."

Blaine nods against Kurt's cheek. "I boxed a _lot_, after everything," he says, and Kurt doesn't need any explanation. He knows, because he knows Blaine, that the boxing helped. That it probably cleared Blaine's head and took his anger and self-hatred the same way that throwing himself into work helped Kurt.

They're not the same people they were in October, or even at Christmas, but they're still okay.

Kurt slides his hand up Blaine's back and settles it just there in the middle, right under his ribs. "I sort of have someone, in New York," he whispers into Blaine's ear.

"I'm glad," Blaine tells him, and it wasn't the response Kurt had expected. "You deserve to be happy." He presses a hand against Kurt's hip, and Kurt twirls away, is startled by how keenly he feels the absence of Blaine's body.

He scrubs a hand over his face. "I should go," he says, slowly. "Dad and Carole are expecting me for dinner."

He wants to stay, wants to unpeel Blaine from his clothes, as many layers as he _ever_ teased Kurt about, and trace the new contours of Blaine's body with his hands and mouth.

But that would be too easy, and he knows that it's not what either of them really need right now.

He wants something, though, something warm and sweet and good to take back to his father's house, to the room that used to be his but now feels cold and sterile. He pockets his phone and shrugs into his coat, and then turns to Blaine. "This doesn't mean anything," he says in warning before leaning in and kissing Blaine, careful and chaste.

He feels Blaine shudder and start to go boneless, and has to fight the same response in himself.

He can't give himself up, not yet.

* * *

Sometimes, back home in the loft, he wakes in the middle of the night half-hard and breathless with the feeling of Blaine's hands ghosting over his body. It always takes him more time than it should to reorient himself to the not-quite-darkness of his curtained off "room" and the unrelenting noise of the city outside.

That night, he wakes the same way, and is puzzled by the deep darkness and the utter silence of his old room.

He doesn't know where home is, anymore. Not the physical _place_ of it, at least, because he's more than a little sure and much more than a little scared that the emotion of home is tied to Blaine, and he's _so_ not ready to deal with _that_ yet.

* * *

Kurt takes one look at the people milling awkwardly in the entryway of the Lima Methodist Church and feels really out of place. He tries to slink away to hide in a corner until it's time for the wedding to start, but Blaine is suddenly there next to him.

"You look really nice," Blaine whispers, and Kurt can hear the _hot_ that Blaine leaves unsaid.

"Thanks," Kurt says, runs his eyes a little too blatantly down Blaine's body. His suit is trim and pristine, and he's wearing it with a new confidence. Kurt thinks the words to compliment Blaine on his own appearance, but what tumbles out of his mouth instead is _do you want to . . ._

He doesn't even finish before Blaine grabs his hand and pulls him out into the parking lot and over to his car. "I'm sorry," he's babbling, "the backseat isn't as big as the Subaru, but it's so much more economical, and my dad wanted to give me something _special_ for my 18th birthday, like a new car makes up for his being an astronomical _asshole_ or something—"

Kurt pushes Blaine against the frost-covered side of the car, feels him shudder when his back hits the cold metal. "Shut. Up." He growls into Blaine's ear, and then presses full against him and kisses him, _really_ kisses him, with teeth and tongue and hands hard against Blaine's shoulders.

"Oh, my _god_," Blaine says when he twists away and fumbles for the door handle. "You're so _hot_, Kurt. You're all sexy-confident and you're driving me _crazy_."

Kurt just grins, because he can, and he likes the power of reducing Blaine to this mess of disjointed talking and fumbling hands. He nudges Blaine into the car and pulls the door closed behind them.

* * *

Blaine sits two people down from him in church, and Kurt feels inexplicably safe with the barrier of Mercedes and Tina between them. He needs the physical space, really, because he's a little muddled from their time in the car and he needs to figure out what's happening before his whole relationship train derails into a mess of twisted metal.

Blaine's right, he and Adam aren't exclusive. He knows Adam sometimes goes out (and makes out) with some senior in his playwriting elective, and Kurt's had two coffee date and a slightly awkward but fun dinner with Marcus, the transfer student in his ballet class. Kurt doesn't love Adam, not yet, but he thinks maybe he _could_, if they have the time and the chance.

He doesn't want to throw that chance away before they even really get started.

He knows that he needs to make it perfectly clear to Blaine: no matter what happens, they are _not_ dating again.

* * *

Kurt's learned a lot of things since he moved to New York, but today especially he thinks that the most important thing he's learned is that he has power.

He's always known it was inside him, but it was such an abstract thing when he was alone and lonely and scared, the only out gay kid in Lima. He felt it start to coil in his belly when Isabelle hired him, listened to him, _trusted _him, the way no adult other than his father ever had.

It coursed through him at the Winter Showcase when, for the first time in his life, he stood naked in front of an audience with just his voice and was deemed worthy.

He feels it seeping out of him now, every day, in the halls at NYADA and in his tiny cubicle at vogue. He is strong. He is resilient. He is a survivor.

He has power in his body and his head and his heart, and he can _do_ things with it.

He doesn't need Blaine to make him whole, or Adam, or Rachel or Mercedes. He is whole and good and right all by himself.

He has choices.

And on the stage, singing with Blaine, he makes his choice.

He's going to use his power, tonight, because he _wants_ to.

* * *

Blaine feels warm and solid against him as they dance, and he gives in just a little to the pressure of Blaine's hands on his back. If there weren't so many strangers around them, he would kiss Blaine, but this _is_ still Lima, no matter how casual the guests seem to be about two boys slow-dancing. Instead, when Finn and Rachel are done singing, he says low and soft into Blaine's ear, "I got us a room."

He tries to be casual, in the hall, because he's never had sex just for the sake of having sex. It always Meant Somethingwith Blaine before, and he and Adam haven't even gotten to the starting line yet.

He wonders, as he slides the key into the door, if it's even _possible_ to have a casual hook-up with the boy who used to be your boyfriend.

He turns the handle, feels Blaine hesitate. He stares at Blaine and knows that he's running the show now. He needs Blaine to understand. _I want this_ he says with his eyes, and wraps one hand around Blaine's tie, tugs him into the room, and shuts the door.

He presses Blaine against it, hands on Blaine's shoulders and their bodies tucked together. "This doesn't mean anything," he says again, because he needs it to be clear before they get lost in each other. "We're not back together. I want this, tonight," he promises, and Blaine's eyes tell him that Blaine wants more than that.

Kurt shakes his head. "I can't give you more than tonight." He can't, because he needs to be able to go back to New York and to Adam, and keep growing. If he gives everything up to Blaine, he knows that he'll spend the next six months tied to Lima again, knows that neither of them can handle breaking apart a second time.

_If_ he and Blaine are really it, the promises of _more_ need to wait.

"Okay," Blaine reassures him, tugs at his shirt just like in the car, and Kurt knows that he can't stop this now. They're both in it, no matter what, and he closes his eyes for a moment before pressing forward and taking what he wants.

* * *

He empties his pants pockets, setting two condoms on the dresser next to the room key, his cell phone, and his wallet. Blaine grins sideways at him, setting his own two condoms and a little packet of lube, his cell phone, wallet, and car keys in their own pile.

Kurt shakes his head. "I think we're a little optimistic. I don't think we're going to need all four of those."

"Wanna bet?" Blaine steps out of his own pants and leaves them in a puddle on the floor with his suit jacket and tie.

Kurt fumbles with his belt buckle, shakes his head and breathes out hard. He doesn't know why he's nervous. He shouldn't be nervous. It's not like it's their first time doing this, but it _is_ their first time as these new people, these people who know how to stand up on their own and make their own choices and find their own happiness.

He smiles at Blaine. "You know you make me happy, right?"

Blaine shrugs, and the tails of his shirt ride up a little, exposing the bottom of his boxer briefs. "I guess. I mean, there's so much I don't know about you, anymore."

Kurt crosses the space between them, wraps his arms around Blaine and kisses the tip of his nose. "Why don't I show you?"

* * *

Blaine is pliable and keening underneath him, and Kurt just keeps pushing, keeps taking Blaine closer and closer before slowing, and then starting again.

* * *

Blaine is close, tight around him and deep inside him, his chest to Kurt's back, and Kurt wants more, _so much more_, but he doesn't know how to ask for it.

* * *

He's riding Blaine, his right hand twined in Blaine's left, and Blaine's right hand on Kurt's hip. His thighs ache with the effort, but it's the best kind of pain and he wants it to go on forever.

* * *

Kurt wakes from the same dream again, breath and hands, only it's not a dream this time. It's real, because Blaine is there, and Kurt doesn't need to know anything more.

He rolls over, grabs the last condom off the nightstand. Shifts onto his side, pulls Blaine back against him. He goes slow. He wants to remember, in the morning, and he wants Blaine to remember, too.

* * *

He pulls his clothes on slowly, watches Blaine do the same. Tries not to stare at the spot on his collarbone where Blaine sucked a mark, deep red and slightly raised.

He's buttoning his shirt and staring at Blaine in the mirror, still loose and languid and perched on the end of the bed.

"Tell me now that we're not back together." Blaine's face is open and hopeful.

"I mean, it was fun," he says, because it was. It was fun and amazing and so much more than a wanton night of sex, and he and Blaine both know it, but he can't afford to give that up just yet.

"I'm not going to let you minimize this, Kurt," Blaine insists. "It's no accident that we were together on Christmas, and again on Valentine's Day."

_But we weren't _together_ on Christmas_, Kurt wants to say, because awkward domesticity and Blaine sleeping on the couch the whole visit doesn't count in Kurt's mind as _being together_, but the words get trapped in his throat because Blaine has a point. His favorite holiday and Blaine's, Christmas duets and confessions of love, and how could he have been so blind to their history?

Blaine picks up Kurt's jacket, holds it out to him. They've never helped each other dress before, and it feels more intimate than anything they spent the night doing. He slides his arms into the sleeves, lets Blaine smooth the shoulders down even as he talks about them being together for many many more holidays just like this. " . . . no matter how much you pretend that this doesn't mean anything," Blaine finishes, and for half a second Kurt can't breathe.

Blaine's right, of course, but Kurt still wants his chance with Adam. He turns, leans in, teases Blaine with the promise of a kiss. At the last second, though, he pulls away. He's still calling the shots, Blaine's giving him that much of the upper hand, and it's like a gift to Kurt. He wonders if Blaine even realizes what it means, the trust he's handing to Kurt, because Blaine is sometimes a little slow that way. He feels Blaine's body follow his. "I'll see you downstairs," he says, light and intense, and he relishes the wanting he can still feel emanating from Blaine.

He closes the door behind him, stuffs his bowtie into the pocket of his jacket, leans against the wall in the hallway for a minute. Even now, he still sometimes needs space after sex to let his body settle again, and when it does he feels like the last piece of his New York City self has fallen into place.

He strides down the hall feeling more than a little smug.

He doesn't regret it at all.

* * *

He gets into LaGuardia before noon on Saturday, and he texts Adam while he's waiting for the bus. _Meet me for lunch?_

His phone rings as he curls into a seat and wedges his suitcase into the space between his knees and the seat in front of him.

"Hey," he says.

"Welcome home," Adam purrs. "Lunch sounds good."

"12:30, the Chinese place across from school?" Because there's Apples rehearsal at 2, and Kurt knows he needs to tell Adam about Blaine.

"What's the occasion?" Adam's voice creeps up with something like doubt, and Kurt wonders, for the first time since Thursday, whether he really _did_ make a mistake with Blaine.

"I need to tell you something."

"Aaaah," Adam chuckles. "The ex-boyfriend, is it?"

Kurt really doesn't want to have this conversation on the freaking _bus_. "Yeah," he says. "It was just a one-time thing. We're not- I told him I'm not- we're not _together_ again."

"Okay." Adam is firm, accepting, and Kurt doesn't really understand. "I kind of thought maybe you guys would hook up. It's not a big deal, we're not exclusive." Adam pauses, and Kurt can hear him take a drag on his cigarette. "I mean, unless you want to be, in which case we should talk about _that_, but it's all good."

"Thank you," Kurt says, and feels relief flood through him. "I was worried."

"Kurt." Adam is always so patient with him. "We're okay. Was it good, with him?"

Kurt blushes hotly. "Yes," he whispers, and he wonders how he could be so at ease about sex with Blaine but he can't even talk to Adam about it.

"Maybe after rehearsal I'll take you out dancing, and then later you can tell me all about it."

Kurt swallows, takes a breath. Thinks about how it felt to have that power with Blaine. He wonders what it might feel like, to do that with Adam, or whether he'll want to let _Adam_ have control. He finds his voice, his power, his confidence. "How about I _show_ you instead?"


End file.
